Ducky Ballet
by Sabrina Empress of Insanity
Summary: Someone decided that Kinkan Academy should perform a ballet adaptation of The Prince and the Raven. Someone also decided that Fakir looks good in feathers...


_Author's Note: So during the LJ Princess Tutu gift exchange, poor silvercircles didn't get anything from their Secret Santa! So I volunteered to do something as a replacement. They requested crack. And crack they received. _

_Please note that this takes place between episodes 13 and 14 of the anime, right after the end of part one but before we know that Mytho has become all cool and evil. Just so you have some context!_

**Ducky Ballet**

Fakir wondered if this show was cause for justifiable murder. Although given that the person he planned on killing was himself and therefore it was suicide and not murder, the chances were slim.

There were plenty of things going on in his life that most certainly fell under the heading of absolutely horrific. There was the knowledge that the story in which he had, in another life, died a most horrific death was coming true once more, the fact that the young woman he had trusted with Mytho for at least a point in time was the human servant and daughter of a being of pure and absolute evil, the fact that he found it impossible to believe that the story was over and the raven gone completely without ever putting in an appearance, the fact that Mytho had been acting a bit strange even for a prince with no memory and only half of his heart as of late, and of course the unsettling feeling that fate was looming just overhead waiting to drop a mountain on top of them all. Still, those were problems he could deal with. Fakir could handle them well enough, or so he hoped; he had, after all, been trained to do so for most of his life.

It was the ballet that was going to be the death of him.

If Fakir ever found out who had suggested that the Kinkan Academy ballet department perform an adaptation of "The Prince and the Raven," he would…well, he wasn't sure what he would do, he was too embarrassed to think of anything properly heinous enough, but it would be unpleasant for everyone involved.

If he found out who had cast him in this particular role, he probably wouldn't do anything. He'd be too busy trying to hang himself with the curtain rope.

Fakir stared at his reflection in the mirror and wanted to sink into the floor again. Obviously in this adaptation of the story, no one knew that Princess Tutu was really a duck, so the lake scene was really rather pointless. Still, every ballet seemed to have a large ensemble dance where the lead character draws strength or inspiration from a completely unlikely source, be it Clara trying in vain to help fight off the rats and inspiring the Nutcracker to the maidens' transformations in Swan Lake, and for whatever reason someone had decided that their ballet's Princess Tutu would be told of her mission and guided by the ducks in the pond where the Prince had first shattered his heart.

It was a very loose adaptation, as most ballets tend to be.

The dance sequence was beautiful, there was no denying that. The choreographer really did know exactly how to keep the scene from being ludicrous and make it seem magical and necessary to further the plot of the story. As conflicted and unsettled as Fakir had felt about the entire production, when he had been cast as the lead dancer among the ducks due to the sheer amount of choreography in the multiple dances that would have to be learned, he had not objected in the least. It was a safe role, it was a challenging one, possibly the most challenging other than Princess Tutu's and the Prince's, and the dances really were beautifully done. And then, Fakir thought bitterly, the costume manager had to ruin it all by insisting that the ducks actually look like ducks.

With a resigned sigh, the young man turned to leave the open dressing room and make his humiliated way to the stage for the first rehearsal in full dress. Something caught the back of his ridiculous costume and a small voice piped up. "You have a tail-zura!"

Fakir's head snapped back around so quickly that it twinged painfully. "Uzura! No! Go back home!" Charon hadn't kept an eye on her after all, he thought with an inward groan. He didn't want the little doll…or girl…whatever she was, he didn't want her being seen by anyone else just yet. Not until he felt less suspicious that things weren't really back to normal as they seemed. He didn't know why, but those same suspicions made him sure that Uzura needed to be kept a secret from as many people as possible.

Uzura looked up at him with wide eyes. "Why does Fakir have a tail-zura?"

"It's a costume," he answered quickly, glancing around to make sure that no one else came by to see this exchange. "You need to stay out of sight right now. This is a dress rehearsal; you can't just go around…"

Footsteps down the hall. Fakir stepped into the doorframe both to block Uzura from sight and to see who was coming. Mytho passed by almost without any acknowledgement.

Then stopped.

Then turned.

Fakir stared into those newly unsettling eyes for a moment with a sense of unease growing in his stomach. The prince studied him for a moment, far too emotionless for his partially restored state. Fakir's stomach did a slow roll.

Mytho looked back into his friend's eyes and suddenly burst out laughing.

All of his nerves fled and Fakir felt his face burn. He clenched his hands into fists beneath the ridiculous bright yellow wings. "Shut up! It's…stop that right now!"

With a shake of his head, Mytho continued to laugh as he went on his way. When he had gone, Uzura peeked out from around Fakir's legs once again. "He's so happy-zura!"

Any other time, Fakir would have questioned that very fact and wondered at the uncharacteristic laughter. Right then, however, he had other things on his mind.

Like if they could recast him if he died of humiliation right there on the spot.


End file.
